Manor of Dust and Daggers
YA Mystery, set in England
Word Count 62,560 Status: In revision
The ground squished underneath my feet. It had rained overnight, but I decided that I needed to leave the house even if that meant walking in mud. The contractors woke me up with their hammering and I didn’t bother putting on real clothes before I left. Sweatpants, hoodie, and rainboots would be good enough for a dewy, brisk morning in May.
My tote bag, smashed tight against my side, had an umbrella sticking out of the top. It poked the back of my arm. I hoped to stay outside till lunch or till I couldn’t stand the rain any longer. I had attempted to prepare for the unpredictable weather by also bringing along sunscreen, sunglasses, and a rain tarp.
I wanted to complete three sketches or maybe four for good measure. I couldn’t fall behind. My first stop for the day was the abandoned labyrinth, an overgrown mess of twisted hedges and weeds.
The entrance loomed overhead, the wide opening cresting into an archway. My fingers ached to sketch the chaotic vines that had been allowed to grow past their allotted space, making the archway look like it had dark veins springing out of it in varying directions.
I took out the tarp and laid it on the ground about ten feet away. I spread out my charcoal pencils in front of me and sat cross legged with my sketchbook in my lap. The perspective of looking up at the archway made me feel as if I were a small creature, maybe a rabbit, looking for the entrance to Wonderland.
In reality, the hedges were less than magical with their dried up leaves and branches long since dead. Even still, the fact that they continued to exist fascinated me.
I got lost in the calming repetitive beats of electronic music while I struggled with my angled lines and shading. I didn’t even hear the sound of a small cat approaching.
The fur was black and shiny like fresh paved tar. The yellow, gold eyes had a liquid molten center. I wasn’t sure if I should take this as a bad omen or a sign of good fortune. It stared at me for a brief second before picking up one of my pencils in his mouth and taking off into the maze.
I quickly, without hesitation, shrugged off my earbuds and ran after it. I hoped that this cat was friendly and just wanted to play. I had seen cats pick up items before only to lose interest in them a few minutes later. I could only hope.
I kept pace with him as he bounded around corners and gracefully navigated the uneven ground. I lumbered right behind him, shamefully out of breath. I cursed my lack of regular exercise.
When he finally stopped, he was standing next to something blocking the pathway, the pencil still in his mouth. He walked over to me and dropped the pencil at my feet.
“The best time to plan a book is while you’re doing the dishes.” —Agatha Christie
Quote found on Grammarly
And Then They Lied
YA Mystery/Thriller, set in England Status: Drafting
Comp Titles: And Then There Were None meets Inheritance Games
When she pulled the letter away from the envelope, she saw the familiar handwriting of her grandpa.
Dearest Grandchild,
If you are reading this letter, it means that I have passed away and the time to divide the inheritance will be happening soon.
Neeva, your name means “blue” and “radiance.” Since you were a child, I have always found both to be true. Some days, you are so sad, withdrawn, while other days you are such a light to this chaotic family. I know you will continue to follow your own path no matter what your parents say and I respect you for that.
Please forgive me one thing, it has been me who has put money into your account when you have dipped too low. No matter what happens with the inheritance, I will not allow your account to ever go negative, even when I am gone. I can promise you that. My nugget of wisdom for you is to always know how much money is in your bank account. You can never be too careful with identity thefts happening around every minute these days.
Also, please find it in your heart to forgive your parents, they do love you. Even if you don’t feel close to them right now, they are still your family. As for your sister, she has her faults, her actions can be misguided at times, but her heart is true. Perhaps, she wanted you to know the truth, not because she meant to hurt you, but because she felt you needed to know. Maybe one day, you will be able to forgive her and even appreciate her honesty.
Finally, grandchild, I want you to know that you are very loved. Love conquers all. Even as you read this, I am with Grandma Maureen, or as you called her Nana Reen. Don’t let my death cloud your judgment. When you return home, be the radiant light that drives away the storm. I know you will succeed.
Yours truly,
Grandpa Neville
Neeva couldn’t help but swipe at the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. The pain of losing the two people she had always loved the most was too much for her now. She set down the letter and picked up the other one, wanting to get it over with.
She tore at the corners and when she ripped it open with her finger, she nearly injured the paper on the inside. She yanked it out and a mess of glitter came with it, little specks flung onto her shirt.
She groaned. Glitter was impossible to wash out, it stuck worse than glue.
The paper on the inside was thin, a see through film of white, delicate like lace. Printed in rich black script was a large date, December 22nd 2022. Below that she saw two elegant names, Noelle Northmore and Hadi Valiza. She was invited to their pre-Christmas wedding, a fairytale union between millionaire families, an event just as grandiose as her sister.
The whole affair made her feel sick deep in the pit of her stomach. She knew she was supposed to be a bridesmaid. Her mom had left her several voicemail messages about it. She had finally broken down and texted her mom that she wouldn’t go unless she got an apology from Noelle.
Neeva glanced back down at the invitation, almost ready to trash it, when saw a small handwritten note right under the RSVP. I’m sorry, please come home. Love, your sister.
“Bloody hell,” she said, “I guess I have to go, don’t I, Grandpa.” She imagined him looking down at her, as he did when she was little, a wickedly cunning grin, but also loving.
He was right about one thing at least, her family was the definition of chaos.
Peircing Words 